


Mission Ratios

by infectedscrew



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Violence, minor injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 01:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6780739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infectedscrew/pseuds/infectedscrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission does not go well and Tim does not handle it with grace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mission Ratios

Missions always had the potential for failure. It was up to the one completing them to make sure that potential was as close to zero as possible. But close to, didn’t mean zero. And it was that ‘close to’ that destroyed Red Robin’s world in a single blow.

“Red, get out of here,” Batman hissed at him.

Only, Batman didn’t hiss. Batman commanded.

“No,” Red Robin replied, gaze carefully avoiding the steadily growing ring of thugs around them. He had more important things to thing about, like where had the morons taken the girl?

“Red, I’m serious,” Batman urged him, his back was pressed to Red Robin’s, a solid wall of protection. “This is getting dangerous.”

“It’s not,” he answered. “It’s going just fine.”

But it really wasn’t. He had miscalculated. The drug deal that was supposed to take place in two days was happening right now. So, instead of the ten or so mob men he had expected, he was now facing close to fifty. Apparently Batman didn’t think he could handle it and had shown up as soon as he had sent his report into Oracle.

There was nothing Tim hated more than people offering him help when he didn’t ask for it. He hadn’t been born into the life of vigilantism; he had clawed his way to his spot and he wasn’t going to lose it because people thought he was weak.

“I think you should get out of here, Batman, this isn’t your territory anyway,” he growled, hand tightening around a perfectly sharpened metal disk. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Well, you’re getting it,” Batman snapped.

A bark of laughter cut through their argument. Both turned to see a tall, suavely dressed man stepping toward them. Griffin Demoine was the newest mafia boss to take Gotham and he was taking it hard. As soon as he had arrived he had gotten his hand into everything. There wasn’t a single business who didn’t know his name by the end of his first week. He had been on Red Robin’s list since day three.

“Getting into a little argument, I see?” He called to them, French accent just barely gracing his words.

Behind his mask, Tim rolled his eyes. Griffin had a flair for dramatics and would, most likely, play this out as long as possible for his cronies. After all, what was an evening in Gotham without a little entertainment?

“Yes and you’re interrupting it,” Red Robin called to the man. “Do you mind?”

The man laughed again, the sound echoing through the warehouse. “Of course I do. You’ve interrupted the biggest meeting of my life.” He sighed, like he was disappointed in a child. “I don’t know how things are done in Gotham, but I consider this rude.” He lifted a hand and every body in the room tensed. “Something simply must be done about this.”

Behind him, Batman pressed closer as if he felt his simple presence would keep Red Robin safe. The idea made him scoff. Dick would never learn, just being there wasn’t enough anymore.

“Yes? And what are you going to do?” Red Robin asked, shocking the French man slightly.

His hand lowered and he blinked. “Well, I’m going to kill you,” he stated as if it was the easiest answer in the world. Not giving Red Robin another second, he snapped his fingers.

The thugs launched forward. The following battle was long, graceless and painful. Two burly men had ripped Red Robin away from Batman and many more were doing their damnedest to make sure they stayed that way.

“You stupid bird!” One grunted as he swung a thick fist at Red Robin’s head. “Stay down!” He kicked a meaty leg toward an exposed stomach.

Red Robin grunted, twisting away and avoiding most of the kick. Still, it burned under his uniform. Anger flipped a disk at the man’s forehead, dropping him to the ground. His head snapped to the side when another thug attempted to bring him down by bringing a metal rod into the fray.

Across the room, Batman wasn’t faring much better. Taking on fifty men was, generally, a simple task for him. But when he was stuck in a small space, trying to keep an eye on an insane French men and another one on a fellow crime fighter, his battle was a little harder. However, he was doing quite well. A kick there, a tossed Bat-pelt here and he was steadily making his way closer toward Red Robin, right where he needed to be.

He glanced up when a click that matched none of the other battle noises hit his ears. Instantly, his gaze was locked onto Griffin. The man was pulling up a gun he had never quite seen before. It didn’t take a fool to see that he was pointing it was Red Robin’s turned back.

“Red Robin!” Batman shouted, his voice just barely making it over the noise. He, literally, threw a man twice his size out of the way. “Red! Get down!” He clambered across the room.

Red Robin turned to look at him, a frown pulling at his tight mouth. His hand was clenched around a man’s throat, other hand pulled back for a knock-out punch. He hadn’t seen Griffin yet and the French Man would like to keep it that way.

“Say good night little bird,” Griffin whispered, his finger tightening around the trigger.

The shot broke through the din. It shattered through voices, silencing the once rowdy room. The shriek of the gun seemed to slow down time.

Dimly, Red Robin watched as Batman launched at him, their bodies slamming together in the most painful display of heroism he had ever been apart of. The bullet tore through fabric and flesh, ripping into a body already littered with injuries. Only the tiny gasp of pain from Dick told Tim that it had even made contact. They crashed to the ground, gracelessness embodied.

The world stopped and Red Robin struggled to find a breath, a heart beat, anything in the man covering him. His only protection was fast leaving him, so was it’s warmth. His heart thudded in his chest.

“Batman!” Red Robin grunted, trying to lift the man off of him. It was a much harder task than he thought it should be. “Batman, please get up,” he whispered, hands gripping broad shoulders.

A scream pulled Red Robin back to reality. He tilted his head to find Griffin hauling the kidnapped girl after him.

“It’s been fun, Red Robin,” he called cheerfully, waving his gun. “I promise, I’ll leave Gotham alone for awhile. You look like you’ll need a break.”

Red Robin’s shouted curse made him laugh richly. He pulled the girl after him, his thugs ambling out. Not one looked their way. And, certainly, not a single one offered guilt.

“Those bastards,” Red Robin hissed, his arms clutching Batman. “Those fuckers…” He shifted, finally managing to roll Batman off and onto his back. “Fuck.” His hand dropped onto the steadily growing dark spot on Batman’s chest. Suddenly, everything else was no longer important. No one else was bleeding after all. “Batman, come on.”

He tilted his head toward Batman’s mouth, hoping to find breath.

Nothing.

He swallowed, throat catching, making it impossible to find his own air to breathe.

“Batman,” he murmured, shaking hands crossing over the unmoving chest. “B, please!”

Forgetting secret identities, Tim ripped off his cowl and quickly did the same with Dick’s. He needed to see if Dick would open his eyes. He pushed the older male’s hair back. "Come on! Wake up,” he pleaded. He shook the man’s shoulders.

It wasn’t happening. Batman couldn’t die a second time. There was just no way. Dick especially couldn’t be removed from his life. He had lost everything else, he couldn’t lose him on top of it all. He couldn’t lose the one person he loved most.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, lifting his communicator to his ear. “Oracle!” He almost yelled into the mic.

“Red Robin,” her scrambled, emotionless voice answered. “What is it?”

“It’s Batman. He’s…” He stopped, his throat clamping down on the words. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He pressed his hand hard against Dick's chest. Anything to keep the bloody pool from spreading. “He’s been hit.”

There was silence. Then, “is he breathing?” She asked. His answer pushed her back into silence. “I’m sending help. Stay there. …It’s going to be okay, Tim,” she added.

“No it’s not,” he answered before letting the line drop. He leaned back over Dick’s unmoving form.

There was no way he could move him. The bullet, where ever it had gone, had passed too close to the acrobat’s heart. There was a chance that moving him would cause permanent damage. The idea of Dick losing his ability to fly stung the most. And now, he couldn’t stop his fear from over loading.

“Dick!” He shrieked, hitting Dick’s shoulder. As if violence would bring him back to the world. “Dick, please! Don’t do this! Please wake up!”

Tim wouldn’t have known he was crying if he hadn’t watched a drop splash onto Dick’s cheek and roll off into his hair. He choked back sobs, his head dropping forward onto Dick’s blood stained chest.

“Please. Dick, don’t leave me,” he cried. His hands gripping into the soaked fabric, shaking. “Please. Not you too.” He moaned, a sound of pure anguish. “Dick, please. I love you. Don’t go. Don’t.”

He pressed closed to the other man. Silently willing his own life into Dick. Never before had he brought God into an equation. But, he couldn’t stop himself from praying for Dick’s return.

“God, please. Bring him back to me. Please,” he sobbed. He tilted back slightly, to search Dick’s face for life, as if the prayer was instantaneous. There was nothing and he dropped back against Dick’s prone chest again. “Please. I love him. Bring him back. Oh please!”

There was a sharp, gurgling gasp quickly followed by a moan.

Tim rocketed back. His eyes widened as he watched Dick lift a hand to his chest, still groaning quietly.

“Dick!” He cried, not caring who heard. He dropped forward, wrapping his arms under Dick’s shoulders and hold him close. “Oh my God. You’re alive,” he breathed. The tears returning in full force. “Christ Dick! Don’t do that!” He complained into his shoulder.

A slightly dazed Dick returned the embrace. He laughed softly. “Sorry. I didn’t want to see my little Timmy get hurt.”

Tim snorted, his arms tightening. “Dick, I love you too much. Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

Dick sighed. His hands were rubbing soothing circles into Tim’s back. It wasn’t lost on Red Robin, the irony of him receiving comfort when he wasn’t the one injured.

“I love you too, Tim,” he whispered into Tim’s hair, holding him close. He smiled gently, glad to finally have his little bird back in his arms. Even after all this time and a rather horrific way for it to happen, he was glad to have it.


End file.
